Kurt just wants a quickie, is that really so much to ask? NC-17

His palms itch with it, flexing and curling, nails scratching against his skin as he does and he hisses. This is getting ridiculous, completely and utterly ridiculous and he has no way of easing the tension because his fucking hands just aren't cutting it anymore. He needs contact, and warmth, and unfamiliar scents, and skin, and foreign hands all over him, roaming him, claiming him. Needs to see and touch and taste and feel. And he needs it right goddamnit now.

Kurt's leg bounces beneath his desk, grazing the metal every once in a while. He wants to scream. He has thirty minutes before he can leave the office, but thirty minutes sounds more like an eternity, he's all but given up on even trying to concentrate on his work by this point and the seconds tick by at a snail's pace.

To make matters worse, it's not like Kurt can just go home and call up some guy and have him come over and fuck him into the mattress until he can't see straight, no, because Kurt is a 'good boy.' He worries about things like STD's and intimacy between loving partners. Which is, surprise, not something many men in New York have very high on their list of priorities, so he's boyfriend-less. Boyfriend-less and horny. His only chance at getting some right now is scoping a bar or prostituting himself out on the side of road. For free. That thought actually has its merits, but he casts it off as an incase-of-emergency-only option. Which leaves him with bars again. Fucking hell.

Kurt's dick is literally about to fall off from frustration and disuse, and is it really so much to ask for a quickie in a bathroom somewhere? Apparently.

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, the clock on the wall strikes six thirty and Kurt is out of his chair with his messenger bag like a light. His jeans cling to him uncomfortably, snug around his hopefully-not-too-noticeable bulge, as he all but sprints to the elevator and jams his finger at the downward arrow. It pings and he feels the tension in his shoulders ease up just the slightest bit. He's so close to freedom he can almost taste it now.

Fuck.

There's someone else in the elevator, which in itself isn't so terrible. The terrible part is in the fact that the guy is fucking gorgeous, all long, lean muscles and midday stubble. His eyes are a fierce green, sharp and calculating. Kurt imagines what they'd look like hazy with lust and ecstasy. What those lips would look like darkened with abuse, wrapped around him, the sounds he would make. And fuck everything, that is definitely not helping the snugness.

The man's mouth turns up at the corners into a smirk, like maybe he can hear the thoughts running through Kurt's mind. He desperately hopes not, gulping as he maneuvers himself into the elevator a good distance from the six foot of man candy in the corner.

"Hard day?" God, his voice is delicious too, smooth and self-assured. And the way he says those words is doing things to Kurt's brain that shouldn't even be possible, but so, so is.

"U-uh, yeah," Kurt stutters, "Yeah, long." Then, because he feels like an absolute dork and can't think of anything else to fill the silence with, he shoots out a hand in offering and says, "Kurt Hummel."

A palm fits against his, warm and firm, fingers encasing his hand and stroking teasingly against his wrist. Kurt's brain stutters. "Sebastian Smythe." The smile creeps back across his face, arrogant and suggestive, which would be insanely irritating any other time but only succeeds in being a turn on right now.

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Those eyes drift down Kurt's body slowly as if they're savoring him, as if he's a Fillet Mignon dangling in front of a starving man. His blood pulses loudly in his ears, drowning out any prior thought there may have ever been suggesting that maybe this guy was straight or maybe it wasn't so smart to pick up guys in elevators where he worked and could possibly run into said guys again after and make things incredibly awkward.

"What department are you in?" he asks, proud that he's still able to string together a comprehensive question.

"Marketing." Sebastian throws it out like an afterthought as he slinks forward, covering the few feet of space Kurt has meticulously placed between them. He definitely does not let out a little squeak when a finger curls into his belt loop and tugs him closer.

"What are you…?" A wolfish grin sprouts across the man's face, baring perfect white teeth that makes Kurt feel so much like sheep being a preyed upon. His cock twitches against the hard line of his zipper and god, there's absolutely no way he's about to fuck a stranger in an elevator in broad daylight. No way. Not one. A nail scratches faintly across the skin just above his waistband and he nearly forgets every single argument he has backing up that decision.

"Tell me, Kurt Hummel," Sebastian's stubble scratches against Kurt's smooth cheek as he leans in to rasp the words into Kurt's ear. "Is there anywhere important you need to be in the next few hours?"

"N-nope. I'm free," his voice comes out high and pitchy which serves as a source of amusement for his new acquaintance who chuckles into his neck.

"Good, because we're going to the restroom to take care of this," a strangled groan cuts through Kurt's throat as a palm grinds down into his denim covered erection and his head falls forward to rest on Sebastian's shoulder. "And then we're going to my apartment and I'm not letting you out of my bed until you fuck me so hard my legs go numb. That work for you?" It's an unfair question really, because Sebastian's hand is on Kurt's dick the entire time, pressing and teasing, making any form of thought completely impossible. But he nods into Sebastian's blazer, thrusting up into the pressure before it's gone, along with the body against him and the elevator doors open.

He knows what he must look like, dazed and flushed, hard beyond belief as he tags along after Sebastian in the direction of the restroom, but he can't force himself to care. Not even a little which is only reinforced when Sebastian checks the stalls, finds them vacant, and crosses the room again to flip the lock and press Kurt back against the door.

Sebastian's pupils are blown wide, leaving only a thin ring of green as they bore into his, just the way Kurt had imagined they'd look, before they drop to Kurt's mouth. It's all the warning he gets before Sebastian's kissing him, impatient and purposeful, licking into his mouth like maybe it's the eighth wonder of the world or something. His hips buck up, searching for the friction they've so desperately needed for weeks now. They don't find it. Sebastian laughs breathily against Kurt's lips, pulling away with another swipe of his tongue over Kurt bottom lip. Right as Kurt begins to protest, Sebastian sinks to his knees before him, an eyebrow raised as he pops the bottom on Kurt's jeans. He hisses at the release of pressure, sighing in relief as his zipper is pulled down, freeing him from the denim prison. "God, Sebastian, please," Kurt begs.

"Don't worry, I'll get you there," he murmurs back, sucking wet kisses into the jutting points of Kurt's hipbones, mouthing down the skin as he pulls Kurt's pants and briefs lower, until his cock springs free of its confines, hard and leaking against his belly. "Fuck, you're hot." There is marvel in Sebastian's voice, awe, but Kurt is really just too wound up at this point. He needs to come, needs it like he needs air, maybe more and Sebastian's mouth is just inches away doing pointless things like speaking, when it could be wrapped him, bringing him to his much needed release.

"I need you to touch me or I'm going to fucking die," he grits out. To his great relief, Sebastian doesn't need any more convincing before his tongue swipes a wide stripe up his length and across his slit, dipping in to scoop up the liquid gathering there, and then those glorious lips sink down him, encasing his cock in wet heat. He whines, trying thrust up into the Sebastian's mouth, but there are hands securing him in place and he can't move, just take what Sebastian's willing to give him. It shouldn't be nearly as hot as it is, he's never been into that kind of thing. He can't dwell on that very much longer though, because the next second Sebastian hollows out his cheeks, sucking Kurt down like a fucking hoover vacuum. He's moaning and gasping out little broken words that must sound a whole lot like gibberish to human ears, but he can't make himself stop. This is everything he's been needing and so much more.

Kurt's fingers clench in the Sebastian's short hair, needing something to ground him, keep him from floating off into another realm. Apparently it's the right thing to do. A deep moan vibrates up his cock, and the hand on his hip tightens painfully so that Kurt's sure it'll bruise, but doesn't care. A cry builds in his throat as Sebastian takes him the rest of the way down, his tongue moving in tantalizing shapes against him, but he remembers where he is at the last minute and stifles it by biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. His cockhead bumps the back of Sebastian throat as he bobs and he doesn't want to come yet, wants to feel this forever but there's the familiar tightening in his belly now, the pressure building in a way he knows he won't be able to resist for long. "Sebastian, fuck, yeah, fuck, going to come," he pants, his head thumping loudly against the wooden door. It should hurt, but he's beyond pain at this point. Then the restraining grip on him is gone and green eyes are looking up at him and it's all the encouragement Kurt needs to anchor his other hand in Sebastian's hair and fuck into his mouth with reckless abandon.

Out of the corner of Kurt's eye, he sees a flash of movement, hands, and tendril of white-hot lust coils low in his belly. Sebastian fists himself with quick, erratic strokes, groaning around Kurt's cock, and just takes it, letting Kurt use him as hard as he wants and fuck its hot. Suddenly, Sebastian seizes up, and a few more strokes he comes in streaks over his hand with a muffled wail.

It's too much, far too much. He shoves into Sebastian's mouth to the hilt, holding him there and coming down his throat with a silent cry and blurred vision. His knees give out then, his body sliding down the door to join Sebastian in a heap of gasps and sweat.

When he's able to speak again he smiles sheepishly, and apologizes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to, uh—" He makes a vague gesture with his hands that could really mean anything, but Sebastian just grins rakishly and shakes his head.

"I liked it." He takes another breath and leans back on his hands. "So, my apartment?"

"Sure, as soon as I can stand up."

"Deal."

Thank you all my beautiful babies who have reviewed and followed these dumb drabbles! :) I apologize for grammar and whatnot. These aren't beta'd.